


Anything but Ordinary

by madridistagoblue



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Has some serious undertones but largely a pile of fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was once a time when Kouki wished he could be anything but ordinary -- but since marrying Akashi Seijuurou, he's discovering that being revered comes with its own challenges. Now the coach of a youth basketball team, Kouki wishes he could somehow show his young players that he was once as frightened and new to basketball as them. Seijuurou has a plan to make sure Kouki's students learn the truth -- but, true to his new Akashi name, Kouki isn't about to let his husband have the last laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything but Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to FuriAka Day 2015

"Akashi-kantoku?"

Wide brown eyes looked up nervously behind wild black bangs as small fingers clutched at the fabric of worn, pilled navy blue basketball shorts.

"Mitsuru-kun?"  Akashi Kouki asked, a hint of concern coloring an otherwise gentle tone.  He bent his legs and leaned forward to meet the player closer to eye level.  "Are you ok?"

Mitsuru inhaled audibly, his eyes wavering as his stumpy fingers continued to pull at his practice clothes.

"Why aren't you doing layup drills with the rest of the team?" the coach pressed, searching for an answer. "Our first game is next week. It's important to get ready with your teammates."

"Well…" Mitsuru began softly, his eyes trailing down towards the floor. He slowly shifted his weight from side to side, swaying gently. "That's what I wanted to talk about," he sighed. "I don't think I can play."

"Why not?"

"I just…feel like I'm gonna' be sick…or something," the young player responded, one hand automatically moving to clutch his stomach. "I'm too nervous."

"Hey," the Kouki responded, placing a hand on Mitsuru's shoulder. "It's the first game. I'm sure a lot of your teammates are nervous too. It's ok to feel that way. It doesn't mean you don't belong out there. You like basketball, right?"

Mitsuru nodded.

"Then just go out there and have fun," he smiled. "Ok?"

Mitsuru sighed, with the sort of disdainful aggravation only a young child would dare display so openly. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered. He shifted his body, so that his coaches' hand slipped off his shoulder.

Wide eyes with narrow brown irises widened in surprise. "I wouldn't understand what?" Kouki asked.

"I know some of the other kids might be nervous too," Mitsuru replied with a shake of his head, "but I'm different. I kinda'…freeze up…sometimes." His eyes sunk towards the floor and his shoulders fell limp. His hands slowly curved around to his back, as though he were attempting to hide a broken item from his mother. "When I'm really scared it's like…I can't even move."

Kouki felt his chest tighten as he looked at the boy's downcast posture. With each passing second, Mitsuru's body seemed to curl more tightly inward, as his expression became less one of fear and more of guilt. Kouki's eyes were locked on his player, but something inside his mind made him feel as though he were staring into a mirror from long ago.

"It's alright to be that way," Kouki said softly. He smiled, for reassurance, but somehow wearing the expression felt almost sad. "But practicing in games will help make you feel more comfortable. If you want, we can start slowly -- just a minute or two each half -- until you're ready to play more."

Mitsuru still shook his head and backed away. "No," he insisted. "I don't think I should play at all."

"Well, you certainly won't be able to play if you don't even try," Kouki sighed, the air he exhaled feeling heavy. The hand once outstretched towards Mitsuru began fidgeting with the whistle around his neck. "But if you play in games you'll get used to what it feels like; and, I promise, they'll become less scary over time."

"I can't," Mitsuru repeated, the bottom of his jersey now completely bunched up between his fingers. "I'd just screw up when someone else could be there, helping the team. I can't do that to the team like that." 

Kouki's smile faded as his heart slammed heavily against his ribcage. Part of him felt disbelief at the words his player was speaking, while another part understood the words all too well -- and all too personally.

"But, Mitsuru-kun," Kouki protested, in a voice firm, but still gentle, "you might be able to do more for your team than you think  -- maybe not next week, but in the future, as you improve. If you give up now, maybe you won't let them down, but you'll never be able to help them on the court, either."

"I guess," Mitsuru said dismissively, and shrugged.

"Hey!" Kouki smiled. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and his words felt heavy, but he was determined to remain undeterred by Mitsuru's pessimism. "I've got a confession to make," his eyes widened as he crouched down lower and subtly motioned for Mitsuru to step closer. "Do you want to know what happened in my first ever basketball game?"

"What?" Mitsuru asked, taking a small step forward.

"I was so scared I fell flat on my face!" Kouki laughed. He stopped abruptly when he noticed Mitsuru was not joining along. He stared at his player for a moment, silently wondering why his story had generated no response.

The answer he finally received made his stomach churn.

"I don't believe you."

"Wh-what?" Kouki stammered. Immediately he felt his heart stop. He tried never to freeze up or stutter like this in front of his players. He took a deep breath, and concentrated on his speech. "Why would you think that?"

Kouki's heart was beating faster now than before. Did he really come across as untrustworthy? What was it about his coaching or the way he had addressed Mitsuru which made him seem untruthful or unapproachable?

Mitsuru sighed. "You're an _Akashi_ ," he replied, with a hint of exasperation laced in disappointment.

Kouki felt as though the room stood still.

His mind was racing, attempting to pull scattered feelings of ill-ease into coherent sentences. It was his duty as a coach to encourage his players, and as a public figure at Akashi Seijuurou's side to express himself with clarity. Yet, now -- ironically, given what Mitsuru had just said -- he felt inadequate to calm his player's fears.

Mitsuru's downtrodden eyes and trembling appendages were so familiar to Kouki, and yet it was clear the boy felt as though his coach could never understand him. Kouki wished he could reach into his own mind and pull out years of anxious memories to show Mitsuru -- some way to convince the player that his struggle was not unknown to Kouki. But no words, even such wonders as his husband could speak, could overcome the perceived distance imposed by his family name.

"I wasn't always an Akashi," Kouki said, the words somehow falling into place. "And, even now, I'm not nearly as impressive as my husband!" He laughed softly at himself, hoping it might make him seem less imposing.

"But you were captain of your high school team," Mitsuru retorted, "and now you're a coach. And you're not _just_ a coach, but you also work at the pet shop, _and_ you're writing a book about the Generation of Miracles! And maybe you were never a pro basketball player like Seijuurou-sama, but he's said in interviews that you inspire him. I could never do all those things. "

"I never thought that I would be able to do those things, either," Kouki replied. "I only played in two official games my first year of high school. But I worked really hard and I accomplished things because of it."

Mitsuru sighed and scraped his shoes against the court, his expression one of defeat. "Okay, I'll go back to practice," he mumbled. Yet his statement was one of resignation, not agreement, leaving no sign that Kouki's words had left any lasting effect.

Kouki exhaled as he watched his young player turn his back and go. He felt an itch in his stomach, memories taunting him of a time he had wished to be anything but ordinary.

***

"Kouki?" Seijuurou's soft voice called, as a hand reached up to gently caress Kouki's arm. "Are you going to tell me what is troubling you, love?"

Kouki continued to stare down at his book, not turning his eyes to look at the man seated next to him in bed. "Nothing's wrong," he said, skimming over the next paragraph, only to realize a moment later that he hadn't retained a word of what he had read.

"Kouki," Seijuurou repeated, sternly this time, with no gesture of affection attached. "You’ve been unusually aloof this evening, barely even paying attention at dinner when Shiori was discussing basketball practice. Surely you are interested in our daughter's first week as a Teikou player? Or are you still concerned that the school will be too stressful for her? We've already discussed the changes in the administration since my time there and…"

"No, that's not it," Kouki snapped. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Forgive me if I know you too well to believe this," Seijuurou replied. "I hope you are not overworking yourself," he continued with concern, "I know you insist they are simply volunteer jobs, but going from coaching to the pet shop every evening must be tiring."

"You don't need to worry so much about me, Sei," Kouki sighed. "I'm just a bit nervous about the kids' first game coming up next week. It's not a big deal."

Seijuurou let out a short, breathy chuckle, and wrapped a hand around Kouki's back. "Well, that's certainly like you, Kouki -- always working tirelessly to do the best for your team. But, if I may -- did something happen at practice?"

"Something one of the kids said just kind of rubbed me the wrong way," Kouki sighed, snapping his book shut and setting it down on the nightstand to his right. He then turned to his left side, and placed his head on Seijuurou's shoulder.

"And what is it that was said?" Seijuurou asked, smiling as Kouki surrendered to his coaxing. Kouki breathed in and out slowly, feeling the calming touch of Seijuurou's hand as it caressed his side.

"Well, see, this one boy -- Mitsuru -- is really nervous about the game," Kouki began, closing his eyes and trying to focus on Seijuurou's warmth as he recalled the story. "So I tried to tell him that in my first game, I fell on my face. I thought maybe it would calm him down. But, instead, he just told me that he didn't believe me! Oh, but that's not even the part that bugged me! The reason why he said he didn't believe me is because I'm an Akashi. That's it. Just because we're -- what-- rich and talented, he doesn't believe me at all! I mean, can you believe that, Sei?"

Kouki opened his eyes and looked up at Seijuurou, expecting an eloquent response or even a gaze of sympathy. Instead he was met with cold, blank silence. Seijuurou's hand stiffened, his fingers no longer dancing playfully across his back. Worried that his husband might feel worried or irate on his behalf, Kouki continued.

"It wasn't that big a deal," he attempted to reassure Seijuurou, "I just wasn't expecting a kid to say something like that, you know? Why would anyone say it?"

He studied Seijuurou's expression again, carefully, hoping to find a renewed warmth there, but was met only by the same vacant gaze of one lost in thought.

"Unfortunate as it is, people are bound to say such things," Seijuurou finally said.

Kouki felt the remains of food in his stomach beginning to churn, causing a slight burning pang. His expression fell flat, as he realized suddenly the cause of his husband's detached reaction. This was how Seijuurou had been regarded his entire life -- with a fanfare that was distant and isolating.

As Kouki thought about it, he realized that he too had treated Akashi in this manner, trembling in front of him on many of their first meetings, largely out of a reverent fear that he could not compete against or socialize with one so much higher in talent and status, let alone whose aura commanded such respect. Perhaps he deserved to have the tables turned now, as a punishment for having ever thought of the man he fell in love with in such a way.

"Oh…" Kouki muttered, slowly, as his dawning realization transitioned slowly into words. "I'm…sorry, Seijuurou…I didn't think about the fact that you must have heard this a lot."

Seijuurou smiled softly, and Kouki felt warmth spread across his back as Seijuurou's grip on him tightened once more.

"It's alright, Kouki," Seijuurou replied, leaning towards Kouki's head, rested upon his shoulder. "Just because I have heard it many times does not change the fact that it is upsetting to you. But, I must tell you something -- something which I took many years to understand on my own." He bent down, resting his face against the brown tresses of Kouki's hair.

"Your accomplishments are something to be proud of, not something to be feared. No matter how tempting it is to hide them," Seijuurou said. "Though you may think they isolate you, you will always feel most alone when you refuse to acknowledge your true self -- or selves, in my case." He moved his hand up Kouki's spine gently, and inhaled deeply, taking in Kouki's scent. "Some may feel inadequate in comparison to you, but this is their fear, and not your flaw. Others will admire you for it, and love you all the more. You are the first who taught me this lesson, Kouki, and for that I am forever indebted to you. I am proud of who you are, just as you are proud of me. The ones who matter -- my former teammates, my most trusted business colleagues, and, of course, you, my love -- will never fear the ascendance of those they care for. They will take pride in your growth, and show you not merely respect, but generosity of heart. I am proud of you Kouki. Always. I am amazed at the person you were and the person you've become. You didn't need my family name to become what an Akashi should ideally be -- hard-working, determined, and capable of becoming the best, because they believe in it fully."

"Sei…juurou…" Kouki whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He lifted his head slightly and rotated his body, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband and burying his head into the hollow of his shoulder.  "I'm so proud of you too." Raising his voice, to something teasingly stern, he added: "I hope you still tell yourself everything you just told me!"

"It's not so difficult, with you here at my side," Seijuurou replied with a chuckle so lively in tenor as a soft melody.

"I love you Seijuurou," Kouki sighed, lifting his head to plant a lingering kiss against Seijuurou's cheek.

"And I you, Kouki," Seijuurou whispered, now running his hand through Kouki's hair. "But," he added, suddenly, in a louder voice, "for all I said earlier, children -- such as the one who made this comment to you -- are somewhat different than adults with respect to how they perceive greatness."

"What do you mean?" Kouki asked.

"Well, adults see so many things as fallen out of their reach -- perhaps because they have experienced loss more deeply than most young children," Seijuurou explained. "But to a child, becoming a professional basketball player or an astronaut is no more unattainable than their will. And at the age where they being to doubt, perhaps it is best to remind them that some of the most accomplished people have the same anxieties as they."

"That's fascinating, Sei," Kouki sighed, "but I don't really get what it has to do with anything."

"I mean that the kids you coach should learn your story," Seijuurou clarified.

"Well, I'm afraid that's hopeless," Furihata sighed, loosening himself from Seijuurou's grasp to lean over the bed and turn off the lamp on the bedside table. "They don't believe me, after all," he added, snuggling back into his husband's embrace.

"There are ways," Seijuurou replied. Though Furihata could not see the small and cunning smile on Sei's face, he knew it to be there.

"Whatever you say," Furihata mumbled, letting his eyelids fall and drifting further from consciousness.

"I'll prove it, Kouki," Seijuurou said -- the last words Kouki heard before succumbing to sleep.

 

 

 

 


End file.
